


take a little heat

by squidmemesinc



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, my brand!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: The heat never used to bother Lio Fotia. But the lingering sense of cold he feels doesn’t have anything to do with the weather, after all.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Kudos: 141





	take a little heat

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the summary this is really not that deep, lol. Had to get it out of my system, and hopefully now that that's done (famous last words) I can try to cannibalize parts of this to write something else with all my Big Gay Thoughts. 
> 
> Thenks Trigger for my life.  
> 
> 
> Kinda doubt anyone reading this particular fic will have been around my stuff before since I'm new here, but just in case, and since I don't have socmed, I googled my dn the other day and just the fact that there were a handful of people who've ever recced my stuff was really helpful to my self-induced writer's block. Thank you, random people of the internet <3

It’s after midnight when Lio cracks open the door to their apartment. All the lights are off, but he hears the TV mumbling quietly from the other room, can see flashes of color flickering, so bright in contrast to everything else that it’s easy enough for him to slip off his shoes without any extra fuss or fumbling around. 

Galo is asleep on the couch, despite the glow of the late-night cartoon reruns blaring colors and high-energy plotlines across his face in a desperate attempt to get his attention. Given the telltale remains of pizza boxes and napkins littering the table, Lio thinks he gets why it hasn’t. It’s summer and he’s stripped down to nothing but his favorite blue mesh running shorts, which Lio has never seen him run in, but always wear to lounge around the house.

The heat never used to bother Lio Fotia. He was always comfortably warm, leaving him to whatever fashions he preferred. Now he keeps himself in long sleeves and pants in dark hues even in the summer, but the lingering sense of cold he feels doesn’t have anything to do with the weather, after all. 

Galo runs hot, and always has. It’s nothing to do with fire aliens from a parallel dimension either, just that natural comforting human warmth that never fades. Which is something Lio finds himself grateful for, now that he’s come up against an unexpected constant need to supplement his own temperature. 

Lio moves over to the sofa and gingerly pushes at Galo’s feet. After a moment, he makes a soft sleepy hum of surprise, breaking from whatever dream he might have been having and tucking his legs in so Lio can sit down. Galo keeps his eyes closed and heaves a little sigh, making Lio wonder if maybe he is still asleep after all. He doesn’t shift any more than that, besides letting his arm drop down from the sofa back to drape across his stomach. Lio leans his shoulder against Galo’s shins, sighing quietly as he settles into the pleasant familiar sensation.

Perhaps Galo is more awake than Lio had thought, because grunts and stretches one leg out again, pushing it between Lio and the couch and hooking his foot around him to pull him in closer. His other foot shifts over Lio’s legs until he finds himself sandwiched between Galo’s thighs. “Cold?” Galo eyes are still closed, and his voice is a little scratchy, but he’s smiling smugly.

Lio rests his chin on Galo’s knee and lets his gaze shift lazily over to the TV, watching the unfamiliar scenes play out on the screen and tracing patterns absently over Galo’s thigh. “Not really,” he says.

Galo makes another sound that might be a laugh, like he doesn’t believe him. Lio was telling the truth, at least to his own mind. He stopped being cold pretty quickly after coming into contact with Galo’s infectious warmth. 

It’s calming, which is a little strange, a little different. He’d been angry for so long, and the burning helped, scratched an itch, but also fed into himself, always leaving him wanting more and feeling unsatisfied, up until the end. Galo feels like the opposite; the warmth is soothing, and quiet. Maybe it’s a psychological connection Lio’s made between Galo and the relative end of his plight, extinguishing his anger; it might not have anything to do with the man himself. 

But he likes Galo anyway, and even if it feels strange to him, he likes this sensation—this being comfortable, this easiness. He can just sit here using Galo’s leg as a crutch and a heater all at once, let the flashing colors and dulled sounds of the TV hypnotize him, have all the thoughts just melt out of his head. 

He’s not aware of what his own hands are doing until he starts to realize Galo is reacting to it. Shifting a little, when Lio’s fingers brush spots he would know to be ticklish, if he were thinking about it, but he’s not—wasn’t. Lio smiles a little when Galo’s leg twitches and he starts becoming more restless around him. Even if he doesn’t he doesn’t have the Promare anymore, he can tell Galo’s skin is heating up a little. He starts to take hold of what he’s doing in his head, intentionally brushing the line of his thumb up Galo’s calf, behind his knee, down his ankle. It’s light, and it isn’t anything overtly stimulating, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can see why it’s captured Galo’s attention. 

“Oi.” 

Lio pretends not to hear, pretends to be engrossed in the TV he isn’t watching a moment longer, keeps up his private charade while Galo’s knee guards his smile. Galo twists his toes around and nudges Lio in the side, and at that point he sits up and turns his head, feigning sleepiness. Galo is now looking at him intently, as if he thinks Lio might be messing with him but can’t be fully sure. 

He can’t, of course, so he quickly changes tactics and just turns on the charm. “Hey,” he says, grinning at Lio and wiggling his knee, and him with it.

Lio squeezes the arm around his leg a little harder to still him and turns to face him. He trails his finger down Galo’s thigh much lower, precise and intent, nearing the hem of his shorts and letting his expression sharpen up. Galo’s face flushes just as quickly, and there’s a fun moment where a bunch of different expressions work through his face as he tries to swallow his eagerness. “Hello,” says Lio, letting his eyes trail down Galo’s body lazily.

“Hey,” Galo says again, distracted by Lio’s increasingly adventurous fingers. Something—simple competitive spirit, probably—has him reluctant to break eye contact, but Lio can see Galo struggling to hold his intense gaze when he so clearly wants to watch where Lio’s hand is, as if seeing it might make it go where he wants it to. Lio narrows his eyes in silent challenge, keeping his thin smile fixed and easy. Galo takes in a breath, gets caught halfway as Lio’s fingers dip further down his thigh again, and lets it out shakily. 

“You ever watch this?” he says, perhaps trying to give himself an excuse to look away, though he doesn’t, just nods towards the TV. 

Lio doesn’t look either, though. He just tilts his head slightly, casting the heat of his stare over to the corner of Galo’s jaw, down his throat, back up to his face, keeping his hand moving lazily all the while. “I might have, once or twice.” 

Galo tries to give a casual nod as Lio’s finger traces another line down his thigh, pressing a little harder, trying to get him to jump. It nearly works, and he can see a muscle work in Galo’s jaw as he nearly loses the thread of the their slow, meaningless conversation. “Makes sense. Not much leisure time when you’re leading a terrorist organization, I’ll bet.” 

Lio stills. Galo swallows, realizing how his attempt at levity might have come off poorly, what with his blood being in all the wrong places, cut off from his already “severely deoxygenated brain” (an excuse he’s tried to use before). Actually, Lio is used to Galo running his mouth by now, but he lets him think he might still be pushing his buttons because it’s fun to turn it around on him. 

Slowly, Lio shifts, and Galo untangles his legs from his limbs with a guilty expression on his face before realizing Lio leaving, but pulling himself further up onto the couch. Lio moves fluidly from there, one hand catching Galo’s thigh and the other supporting himself so that he can hover over him. They don’t touch save for Lio pressing himself fully and firmly against Galo’s crotch, grinding hard and slow against him and teasing out a short, loud groan, a longer, happily tortured one. “Dunno about that…” Lio says, lingering a hair above Galo’s lips, watching the tight, hopeful suspense in his expression grow. “I found ways to entertain myself.”

Galo’s thick, warm arms wrap around him and they seize together into each other, kissing with barely parted lips. Even with the relatively short amount of foreplay, Lio finds himself impatient to abandon the illusion of a chaste kiss. His teeth find Galo’s lip, and Galo’s tongue chases his soon after. 

A wet gasp from Galo reverberates satisfyingly through them both, and Lio rocks his hips forward again, encouraging Galo’s thighs to squeeze him closer. His cock is so thick and hard between them that it almost hurts to have it pressed into his body. Lio gives a low purring growl anyway, kissing him harder, shifting Galo’s leg in his grip so he can grind himself against the larger man, reveling at how much of him those big hands can touch when they slip under his shirt. The heat of him sinks so deep through Lio’s skin, if he weren’t biting Galo’s lips, he’d bite his own in savoring the feel of it. 

One of Galo’s hands works its way under the thickness of his hair, fingers threading through it carefully, cupping his jaw, fingers sliding back around his neck and cupping the back of his head. The intimate brush of his thumb against Lio’s pulse sends bright thrills down his spine, warmth blooming out from around his neck and into his chest. Lio plants a hand flat along his ribs, groaning at the sensation of Galo’s tongue and breath warm in his mouth, like an echo of the flame that once passed between them. It’s intoxicating, dizzying, and he pulls back and sits up to wipe his mouth on his sleeve, for once seeking the comparative coolness of the air to steady himself. 

His own eagerness is unguarded now, the pretense of animosity abandoned. Lio looks down at Galo, his chest heaving, tan and flushed, bare skin glistening slightly from both arousal and the humid July air, with giddy appreciation. His focus is now fully on Galo’s erection, so hard and impressively outlined where it strains against his shorts that it makes his mouth water a little. He trails his fingers down Galo’s ribs while he thinks, swatting away Galo’s eager hand when he tries to reach for him. Galo gives a small whimper but obediently withdraws it, stretching both back behind his head, making his muscles flex and shift as he arches his back and squirms his hips. “Lio…” Galo breathes, eyes pleading.

With one agile hand, Lio twists his thumb across the midline of Galo’s cock through his clothes, feeling the heat of him through the thin, breathable fabric, almost warm enough he could imagine it was skin, if his eyes weren’t telling him otherwise. “Ahh...” Galo hisses, and the muscles in his arms flex in an appealing way as he grips the couch. 

Lio’s sharp eyes flick back up to his face. “Tell me what you want.” He flips his hand around, tracing another line down in the opposite direction, watching Galo’s expression contort with barely restrained pleasure.

“Ahh… Anything, baby. Just love it when you touch me…” 

“Tell me…what you want…” Lio repeats, his words slower and more insistent to match his movements. He presses his thumb down again, a little harder now, the pad of it catching on the fabric when he moves so there’s just enough friction to make him jump. Galo’s eyelashes flutter and he stifles a noise, taken by a shudder instead. He bites his lip and his eyes close, hips chasing Lio’s flighty fingers. On another day, he might be a little meaner, force Galo’s attention on him, wring an answer out of him, but right now he’s enjoying watching, feeling indulgent. “Galo.”

“Mm?”

Lio watches his eyebrows knit together when he drags his nails across his skin just above the hem of his shorts. “You want to fuck me?” He says it slowly, quietly, weighing the options out loud for himself, now that he’s fairly certain Galo won’t be able to give him an answer. 

But the words themselves have a pleasant effect. Galo’s breath hitches again, hips coming up eagerly, eyes just barely peeking opening, but he does nothing more than moan out Lio’s name again, soft and quiet.

Lio cocks his head to the side again. “You want me to fuck you…?” Gently pressing himself against Galo’s body again, he draws his hands back to Galo’s knees and teases them open a little more.

Galo whimpers. “ _Hnn_ … Lio… Baby, come on, it _hurts_...“ He squirms a little more urgently, biting his lip, and the image sends a pulse through Lio’s body, hot and liquid like the anger he’s so used to, though it’s anything but. For a moment, he’s immobilized by a rush of heat that makes him dizzy, though Galo misses it because his eyes are closed again. He’s eager for attention, trusting Lio to deliver. Lio lets his fingers idle across Galo’s body a moment longer, while he tries to shake off what he’s feeling so he can do just that, because in spite of the various scenarios playing out in his head right now, what he wants most is just to watch Galo come apart under him. He wants to touch him, uninterrupted, feel the heat rise off him, feel the simplicity of his unfiltered passion. 

He flits his hands down Galo’s thighs again, ghosting them back and kneading a knuckle hard into his perineum through his clothes, and Galo gives his loudest and sharpest moan, thighs clamping around him and cock jumping hard at the little jolt of pleasure. He’s so tense now that he starts melting off the couch and further into Lio’s lap, threading his fingers through his hair in distress. “Lio, Lio please— Please touch me, I want it so bad, baby…” His eyes are wet and desperate, and Lio thinks he’s only barely playing it up.

Galo watches Lio worry a fingertip between his own teeth as he fights a smile, sobs as he cups his other hand around Galo’s erection and squeezes him hard through the thin fabric. Lio hardly needs to work to slick up his fingers; the real challenge is keeping from making a mess, drooling all over himself, as much as he’s enjoying watching Galo squirm and shudder now that he’s finally got a hand on his dick.

The shorts are loose enough that he can keep teasing him, keep the layer of fabric between them and just squeeze him, applying pressure in different places all along his thick shaft. The couch makes an awful crunching noise and Galo pulls a hand back, planting it on his chest instead. He groans, watching Lio’s hand curled around him and throws his head back. “Ahh, harder, please…” 

Lio’s own saliva slides down his hand and he chews his own fingers in his mouth as he tries to fight down his smile, wondering if Galo is ever going to tell him it’s _too_ hard (hasn’t happened yet). He slips the waistband of Galo’s shorts over his cock, and Galo’s squirming instantly slides his cock into Lio’s waiting hand. Already, wetness smears down from his head across the shaft, but his grip is enough to make Galo cry out and buck against him. Keeping his hand tight, Lio starts to pump him slowly as he finally pulls his slick fingers from between his own lips. 

Galo shivers again as Lio nudges the hem of his shorts aside, sucks in a breath as he shoves a finger into him. “Ahh, Lio— Lio! Mmn, nn… Please, ahh…” Galo’s hand is a fist on his chest, pressing into himself against the hard thudding of his heart, tense from the waist up so as not to interfere with anything Lio’s doing, desperate to keep him from stopping, unaware that he’s already decided on lavishing him in pleasure tonight. 

He wastes no time pushing a second finger into him. Lio doesn’t bother moving his hand as much as just rocking pressure against him, fingers slipping against Galo’s clenching muscles. “Talk to me,” Lio prompts gently. “You’re too tense.”

Galo’s response is another low groan, though he forces his fingers open and tries to squirm his shoulders loose. “I’m not gonna last, baby,” he gasps. “Ah, fuck— Please, please, please, Lio, Lio—!” He babbles on and on, and Lio coos softly at him. His grip is vice-like and he’s enraptured; he moans while he watches the beautiful scene of Galo coming apart beneath him. Galo’s hips rock wildly, his stomach twitches and tenses every time Lio moves against him, steadily forward and back. 

Lio’s hand starts to ache from squeezing Galo’s cock, but he doesn’t let up. The minutes of teasing and drought of touch have these new hard and fast attentions adding up quickly. Galo’s senseless pleas and gasps of his name wind tighter and tighter until his throat constricts, his body tenses, and then he shudders and breaks. His release coats his own chest and face generously as Lio continues to viciously wring him out. 

Galo pants weakly, moaning through the aftershocks, limp and boneless before Lio even draws his fingers out of him. “Oh, god…” His chest heaves, the wetness there glinting as the light of the TV continues to flash on in the background.

“Good boy… Good…” Lio murmurs before releasing his aching hands and collapsing against the side of the couch, his palm lying gently on Galo’s hip, savoring the feel of his body moving, breathing, twitching; and then just the warmth. Warmth in his hand, where they touch. Warmth where Galo’s thighs are still against his, spread open around him. Despite all the arousal, Lio is content to just stay where he is. 

“I took...a shower...and everything,” Galo breathes after a while, tugging his shorts back up and surveying his chest with a mix of amusement and very mild disappointment. He groans, and with a huge amount of effort, heaves himself up so he can grab one of the less pizza-drenched napkins from the table to clean himself off. 

Lio watches him, caught between a mixture of exaltation and sudden fatigue, like the time has just caught up with him. The best path for indulging both of those, he figures, is to lean forward and tuck himself against Galo’s side, so he does, earning a quizzical look from the other. 

Tossing the napkin aside, Galo readjusts on the couch, with Lio in the crook of his arm, now fully pressed against his chest and feeling undeniably comfortable. Galo’s fingers trail lightly along his hip, and he can feel Galo looking at him even with his eyes half-lidded, both a subtle question. In answer, Lio slips an arm around Galo’s back, hugging him closer so the harsh glow of the TV blocked by his shoulder. “After all that, you’re not even going to let me pay you back, huh?” 

“I never said that, Galo Thymos,” Lio says, eyebrows knitting together mischievously even if the other can’t see his face. “Tomorrow’s a whole new day.” 

“Uh-huh,” says Galo, brushing his hair back from his face. But by this point, Lio is half-asleep. He doesn’t answer when he hears Galo point out that it’s after midnight, so it’s not a _whole_ new day, thinking his silence speaks to his opinion of that. By the time Galo grabs the remote to finally shut off the TV, all Lio is aware of is the familiar smell of Galo’s skin, like sweat and smoke, his firefighter soul burning warm like home.


End file.
